Seeds of Vengeance

by Sylvia Nobel

  I didn’t. The horrifying vision of nothing but a thousand foot drop below us shoved me to the brink of panic again. Calm down! I forced myself to take long, steadying breaths. Until the snowstorm abated there was no way to assess our situation. “Good point.”

  In spite of the fact that I was shivering with cold, my palms were sweaty as I frantically searched the floor for my purse. I finally located it beneath my seat, but all the contents had spilled and it seemed to take an eternity to find my cell phone. Please let there be a signal! It powered on, but then my spirits hit bottom when the low battery message flashed at me. There were also four voice messages, two from Tally and one each from Brian and Walter. I dared not waste what was left of the battery returning their calls.

  I punched 911 and waited with bated breath for the number to connect. Dead air. I glanced at the screen. Call Failed pulsed back at me. “Damn it.” I hit redial and when I heard a woman’s clipped, “911 Emergency,” relief turned my bones to jelly. I filled the operator in as quickly as possible and gave her the general vicinity of our location, well aware of the gravity of our situation. Due to the severity of the weather, it was doubtful rescue efforts could begin until daylight.

  Impulsively, I dialed the Starfire Ranch. The sound of Tally’s pleasant voice warmed me. “Tally! It’s Kendall!”

  “Hey, where are you? Ronda and my mother just now walked in. I’ve been trying to call you for—”

  “Listen to me! My cell phone is about to die and I don’t have much time. I got forced off the road coming down Yarnell Hill. It’s colder than hell and we can’t get out of…Tally? Tally?” I looked at the screen and sure enough it had gone black. In a temper, I threw the phone against the windshield. “Worthless things!”

  “Take it easy,” Grant said in a soothing tone. “It worked long enough to get help. I wished to hell I hadn’t been so careless and forgotten mine.”

  “Me too.”

  “Let’s look on the bright side. At least you had enough juice left to alert the authorities, so all we have to do is wait it out until they find us. We’ve got a couple of bottles of water and some snacks, so we won’t starve.”

  Starving wasn’t my biggest fear. As I listened to the incessant wail of the wind, I could not stop thinking about Riley Gibbons lying dead and buried in a snowdrift undiscovered by rescue teams. Would the same thing happen to us? Weeks from now would Tally be the one among the rescue party to find our frozen bodies? I would never have the opportunity to explain to him why my last hours on earth were spent with Grant. Lucinda would happily blabber her version of the fairground incident and that would be his final remembrance of me. Ruth would be off the hook, she’d never have to tell him the truth, Lucinda would be there to comfort him, they would get married and have several children while I lay forgotten in some weed-choked cemetery where Ginger would bring fresh flowers every so often to decorate my grave. And what about my darling Marmalade? Who would take care of her? Tortured by my fertile imagination, hot tears spilled onto my cheeks at the same instant Grant scooted to my side and gathered me into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, trying to shove him away, unable to see his face clearly in the low light.

  “Don’t be stupid, Kendall. You know as well as I do that frostbite is a very real danger. We’ve got to keep each other warm and we’ve got to stay awake.” Hesitating, I kept him at arms length until he insisted, “Come on, you know I’m right.”

  I relaxed, acutely aware of the irony of the moment as he wrapped his arms around me and forcibly tucked my cold hands underneath his coat. The feel of his lean body was at once comforting and distressing. How many times during those long, lonely months following our breakup had I dreamed of being cocooned in his embrace again? As he pulled me closer, his warm breath caressed my neck and unbidden, from beneath the layers of built up resentment, traces of familiar emotions stirred inside me creating an odd emotional contradiction. Does love really die forever or does it lie dormant, waiting for a word, a look or a simple touch to resurrect it? How fickle the human heart. Guilty and confused, I wondered why I felt insecure about my commitment to Tally. I took a mental step backwards, allowing cool logic to allay my fears. It was more likely that my sudden confusion was due to a simple transference of emotions based on the dire circumstances; the same way strangers come together in a crisis. Yes, that was a more likely explanation. But, if we did somehow survive this ordeal how was I going to explain to Tally how I’d wound up in this predicament with Grant?

  23

  “There, that’s better,” Grant said with a contented sigh, rubbing my arms and back briskly, “but the big problem is going to be keeping our feet warm.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” I asked, trembling as much from anxiety as the intense cold.

  “Well, we’re going to have to put them someplace on each other’s body to heat them up.”

  I drew back. “And where would that be?”

  “It’s going to be really uncomfortable for a few minutes, but I read a story about these two hunters who got stranded in snow for a week and they took turns warming their feet and boots under each other’s armpits.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “You got a better idea?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you go first.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  Much to my surprise, after the awkwardness of removing my boots and lying back against the window to stretch out my legs, it really did work and my aching toes were actually warmer when I slipped my boots back on. I did the same for Grant and we alternated back and forth, chitchatting about anything and everything to stay lucid. We drank the water sparingly and munched on granola bars. It was a poor substitute for the barbeque beef dinner I’d planned to enjoy with Tally, but far better than nothing. Outside the storm intensified, the howling wind buffeting the truck while snow drummed against the windows like icy fingertips. From somewhere in the distance came the sound of muffled thunder.

  “What was that?” Grant asked sharply, tilting his head to one side.

  “Thundersnow.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a rare meteorological phenomenon that sometimes happens during a heavy snowstorm when a warm draft of air causes favorable conditions for lightning and thunder.”

  “Interesting. How did you know that?”

  “It was a sidebar to a story I did on our monsoons last summer.”

  The storm raged on and on. Intermittently, I used the wipers to clear the windshield so we wouldn’t be completely buried. Hopefully, we’d be able to get our bearings when daylight finally came. I also honked the horn and flashed the lights on the slim chance that someone driving along the road above would see or hear us. It occurred to me that we might have to break the windshield in order to get out. And just how would we do that with the tools locked in the bed of the truck? Not good. Not good at all.

  The blizzard finally abated around four in the morning and the ensuing silence was deafening. When I cleared the windshield we were treated to patches of starlit sky visible now and then between fast-moving clouds and within minutes cold blue moonlight illuminated the landscape enough for us to make out the dark outlines of the boulders that imprisoned us, but at the same time, had prevented us from plunging any further down the steep slope. Again, the odd paradox of being in this specific spot struck me. My heart shattered by Grant’s betrayal, my health ravaged by asthma, I’d fled to Arizona to start a new life, and probably less than a mile from where we now sat stranded, Tally had arrived at the scenic overlook and rescued me from a herd of jaw-snapping javelinas. Of course, I’d learned since that they were basically harmless creatures, but hadn’t known that at the time.

  Shivering uncontrollably, I sat clasped in the arms of my ex-lover, thinking that I would never again complain about the summer heat. At that moment, the furnace-like winds, scalding pavement and countless incidents of burning my fingers on the door handle of my car
would have been a welcome blessing. I also couldn’t help but marvel at the total irony of Phyllis’s plea that I drive Grant to prevent him from having an accident. What would his mother think of me now? Time dragged on interminably until I finally groaned, “I have to move. My left foot is asleep.” In an awkward attempt to disengage myself several strands of hair got tangled in his coat button. “Ouch.”

  “Hold still,” he murmured, fumbling to free me, his face inches from mine. Suddenly his movements stilled and before I knew what was happening his lips came down hard on mine. My senses in turmoil, I tried desperately to decipher my true feelings for this man I had once cared for so completely. No question about it. In the kissing department, Grant was in a class all by himself. But even though it was a familiar, pleasurable sensation, deep inside I couldn’t help feeling a measure of triumphant vindication when my heart rebelled.

  I snapped my head back tearing the hairs out by the roots. “Stop it!”

  “Oh, Kendall, ” he moaned breathlessly, “I was such a damn fool to let you go! It was such a stupid, stupid mistake. Won’t you give me one more chance? I swear I’ll never give you reason to doubt me ever again.”

  Keeping him at arms length I said firmly, “Grant, listen to me. I meant what I said before. This isn’t going to happen. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll always cherish the memory of what we had together and I think you’re really a decent guy to finally admit you were wrong, but understand something and understand it well. I am in love with Bradley Talverson now, plain and simple.” Just saying the words aloud banished my misgivings and sent a joyous tingle coursing through my veins. “If you want my friendship, you’ve got it. Can you be satisfied with that?” It was a decidedly awkward moment considering we needed to keep our bodies fastened firmly against one another in order to survive.

  He cleared his throat a couple of times before sighing, “Jesus, you’re breaking my heart.”

  I could have said, ‘Now you know how it feels,’ but instead murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I guess friendship is better than nothing.”

  “Of course it is,” I said, relieved to have diffused what could have been an explosively hurtful scene for both of us. Having no choice but to place my trust in him, I laid my head against his shoulder and we huddled together again. We chatted about world events, our jobs and then he rambled on with stories of his childhood, but after awhile my mind grew foggy and his words made no sense. Sleepy. I felt very sleepy. And comfortable. I struggled to concentrate, listening to his voice drone on and on, sounding further and further away. Maybe I’d just close my eyes for a minute. So sleepy.

  “Kendall! Kendall! Damn it! Wake up!” A stinging slap on my cheek. I fought to open my eyes. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, talk to me,” came Grant’s terse demand. It seemed like his hands were all over me, rubbing forcefully. “Kendall!” Another stinging slap.

  “Cut it out!” I whined, grabbing his hand. “That hurts!”

  “You cannot sleep! Keep talking!” he cried, his voice underscored with fright as he vigorously massaged my arms and legs.

  “I’m sorry. I…guess I nodded off.”

  “No kidding. This cold is insidious.” He forced me to drink water then commanded, “Come on, pick a subject.”

  With extreme effort, I shook the icy cobwebs from my head and tried to organize my thoughts. “Okay. Let’s review the Gibbons case.”

  “I was going to opt for something trivial like sports or movies, but all right. That ought to tax our intellect and keep us awake for the next fifty years.”

  “I thought that was the idea.”

  And so we talked and talked, warming each other’s feet and fighting to stay coherent while recapping everything with the exception of Ruth’s secret. It helped a lot to distract me from the numbing cold, but even with both of us attacking the story from different directions we wound up back at square one. “Christ, my head hurts,” Grant complained, “but I’m going with the assumption that the charming Moorehouse siblings cashed out the judge’s chips. One or both of them followed him to Flagstaff the day he left for his hunting trip, shot him and then…you know, did the deed.”

  “But…why cut off his head?”

  “I don’t know. Just because Moorehouse was released from Death Row on a technicality doesn’t mean he wasn’t guilty as sin of chopping up his girlfriend, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, maybe it’s one of those situations where you get away with something once, so you try it again. He certainly had enough time to plan it.”

  “Could be, and considering how much he and Rulinda hated the judge it would seem a perfect final vengeance, but so far there’s no physical evidence to prove it and we can’t discount the fact that Winston may have had a double motive, revenge plus greed. Oh no wait, maybe there’s a third reason. He gets Marissa in the bargain too.”

  “Excellent hypothesis,” he agreed. “How do we know the baby isn’t his?”

  “We don’t.”

  “But, we also must not forget that La Donna may have hired him to exact revenge on her wayward husband. You know, the hell hath no fury theory. One thing’s still puzzling me though,” he mused, drawing in a shuddery breath. “What’s the significance of those quotations the judge prepared for the two special ladies in his life? Do they have anything to do with his murder or do we handle them separately? Let’s go over them again.”

  “I can’t remember each of them verbatim without looking at my notes, but the first one to La Donna said something like, let your hook be cast and in a pool where you least expect it there might be…no, will be fish.”

  “Interesting quote. Okay, so if we take that apart, hook be cast…you think that means be prepared for something?”

  “Sounds logical.”

  “Or…how about be attentive? And where you least expect it, there will be fish might mean…be observant and you’ll find something in an unexpected place.”

  I stiffened, repeating, “An unexpected place? Wait a minute! I just remembered a conversation I had with Tally and his sister. Riley Gibbons was a mystery aficionado. He devoured whodunits and frequently attended these mystery weekends that are sometimes held in old houses or hotels. Are you familiar with this concept?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of ’em. Each person gets a series of clues to follow and the winner gets some sort of prize at the end for solving the mystery.”

  “Right. In fact, La Donna told me they had plans to host one of these weekends at Hidden Springs.” My mind worked feverishly. “What if…what if the judge designed these messages to function as clues?”

  “Clues to what?”

  That stumped me. “I don’t know.”

  He sat in silence for a little while then said, “Let’s suppose your assumption is correct. What were the quotations in Marissa’s letter?”

  Apparently my brain cells had frozen solid because I really had to tax my usually reliable memory. “I think it started out with love builds bridges where none exist and then…something about not walking where the path leads, but going instead where there isn’t one and leaving a trail or something to that effect.”

  “Man, that’s an ambiguous statement. Makes no sense to me,” Grant remarked thoughtfully. “We’ve got to assume that the wily judge chose those particular phrases for a specific reason, but what the significance is I don’t know.”

  “Let’s try to imagine his mindset,” I said slowly, going over them again in my mind. “Separately these proverbs don’t mean anything, but what if he designed them to be linked together?”

  “Ahhhh! Excellent point.” Again we sat in silence a long time before Grant finally spoke. “Love builds bridges, love builds bridges. Okay, so for some strange reason known only to the judge, he devised this little mystery game so these two women who despise each other would be forced to communicate with each other. Why?”

  “Beats me, although if you think about it, deeding the hotel over to Marissa already binds them together
, but the letters take it a step further. Building onto what you just said, we could postulate that if they compared notes and worked together, they would find something unexpected if they take a path where none exists now. How does that sound?”

  Grant let out a groan of frustration. “Plausible, but I still wouldn’t have any idea where to start.”

  “Yeah. I agree.”

  Silence fell between us again, but then he asked in a mystified voice, “So…what’s the prize?”

  Good question. If the quotations had actually been designed along the same lines as the mystery weekends then… “Holy guacamole!” I whispered in sudden awe, as my thoughts lined up like birds on a phone wire.

  “What?”

  “That’s it!”

  “What’s it?”

  “The coins. It’s got to have something to do with the missing gold coins!”

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” he replied, his voice rising with contagious excitement, “that’s a provocative theory, but, why would he risk that much money for the sake of a game?”

  “Who knows? But from what little I know about him, planning a stunt like this would certainly epitomize his mischievous sense of humor and his lifelong habit of playing practical jokes.”

  “That’s one heck of a final joke, if you ask me. Why would he take such a risk? Think about it. If the two of us can’t decipher what this stuff means, and I think we’re reasonably intelligent, what made him think either Marissa or La Donna would be able to figure it out?”

  “Since there’s no way we can know for sure what he was thinking, all we can do is hypothesize.”

  “Hypothesize away.”

  “Okay. Let’s assume that after Riley received those threatening quotations, he feared for his life.” I could not reveal to him that I already knew this to be true. “But because he’d made such a mess of his personal life and anticipated that La Donna was poised to take him to the cleaners, he arranged to hide part of his assets. Now, according to what Tally told me, Riley Gibbons was also quite the romantic and had a reputation as a ladies’ man.” Boy, was he ever. “So, what if he felt really guilty about hurting La Donna and came up with an ingenious way to force both women in his life to come together to find the treasure? Doesn’t that sound like a wonderfully mysterious way to be remembered?”